


No Solace for the Righteous Man

by KnightRepentant



Series: Last Angel in Heaven [6]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Institutionalised, POV Bisexual Character, The Institute - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 13:03:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11875089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnightRepentant/pseuds/KnightRepentant
Summary: Time for a family reunion.





	No Solace for the Righteous Man

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Нет утешения для праведника](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14170563) by [Blacki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blacki/pseuds/Blacki)



August 5th, 2288

Sunlight hammered hard upon the Castle walls, while the sea’s kiss rose to cool them. Coat and scarf snapped before the racing wind. Standing tall atop those walls, the Fallen breathed deep to calm his pounding heart. Even taller than he stood an edifice of steel, wreathed in static and filling the very air with the thrum of power. The steady pulses of energy coursing through the metal reminded him of some mechanical god, reminded him of the Institute waiting somewhere under their feet.

          Surrounding the Signal Interceptor was a curious crowd, a mix of Minutemen, wide-eyed settlers and, watching from the sidelines, was someone he suddenly needed beside him. His feet fell heavily upon the stone steps and he sidled up to the merc to nudge their shoulders together. MacCready made some non-committal noise, refusing to look ‘round. The grin faded from the Fallen’s face, replaced by guilt and pity. He placed himself squarely to block MacCready’s view of the Interceptor,

          “Mack,” neither a statement nor a question, and it dragged MacCready’s eyes up to his, “You mad at me, Mack?” Various emotions did battle across MacCready’s face and the guilt welled up inside the Fallen until it spilled over, “Look, I’m sorry to put you through this-,”

          “What? No, it’s not-,” MacCready swallowed, “It’s for your son, Sam, I shouldn’t-.” Strong hands were gentle against his face, the Fallen’s lips were soft on his and MacCready let himself be pulled into a tight embrace. The Castle, the sea, the Interceptor…it all melted away. MacCready was taken back to the previous night. _Gasping in the dark, Sam’s broad back glistening with sweat, the words MacCready whispered to him…_

          “It’s almost time.” They turned both to look at the Interceptor, humming patiently out in the sun,

          “D’you know what’s gonna happen?” The Fallen’s lower lip twitched as he sucked air in through his teeth,

          “No,” the shake of his head was stiff. MacCready was suddenly aware of how strained, how stilted the Fallen’s movements had become. Every breath of wind made him nervous, that the Fallen might be suddenly blown away like a pile of leaves or explode into shards of glass. To see someone so…so _unshakeable_ beset by such fear and trepidation, left MacCready utterly numb inside. “That thing scares the shit outta me, Mack! But without it I’ll never see Shaun again. You’d do it too if it were Duncan trapped underground, I know you would.” MacCready’s curt nod came without words, _if I open my mouth now I’m gonna start bawling like a babe_. Then, the hum of the machine suddenly climbed in pitch and Sturges yelled from behind the control panel,

          “Hey boss! She’s purrin’ like a kitten but I dunno how long I can keep it that way! It’s now or never!” Steel boot-heels clicked on the cobblestones as the crowd parted to let the Fallen pass, MacCready hot on his heels. He kept the brim of his hat low, that no-one should notice his shining eyes or clenched jaw. The step up to the platform was agony, as though his legs were tied with steel weights. Sturges tapped a knuckle against a jumping dial, “this thing ain’t nearly as fancy as what the Institute has, so…yeah, this might sting a little.” Dozens of worried faces stared up at him and he never saw them. _Fists clenched, eyes down, can’t let it end this way…_ The Fallen tugged the teal scarf from his neck and tossed it at the merc. The ribbon of cloth was snatched from the air, and MacCready’s lungs gasped like the bellows of a forge. The Fallen quickly looked across to Sturges,

          “Do it!” His eyes locked with MacCready’s in the split second before he was consumed in cyan light, before every atom of him was torn away into nothingness, his scream of pain and anguish echoing off of the Castle walls. The dispersing crowd left a straggler. Teal wool fluttered as knuckles whitened.

 

\--

 

Darkness. Like a fog it pressed against his eyes, his ears and for a moment, the Fallen wondered if he simply dead. He took a step forward and something unseen collided with his shin in a flower of pain. _Okay, definitely not dead, at least._ His fumbling hand quested around his other wrist until a bright beam sprang from his Pip-Boy. White walls, blue floor, everything spotlessly clean. _This has to be it_. The Fallen slung his rifle from his shoulder and padded towards a shuttered door. As quiet as he had been, the door opening was even more so and he froze. A dark stairwell awaited him, cold and empty. He could just make out the steam coiling from his mouth and wished briefly for his scarf.

          “Hello.” Light and noise filled the room as the shot rang out, and the Fallen cursed under his breath, “Ah, sorry, if I startled you. You’re quite resourceful, you know, to find your way here.” The voice held the tinny quality of one spoken over an intercom, “I am known as Father, leader and protector of the Institute. Our time is limited so I will be as succinct as possible: At the bottom of those stairs is an elevator, if you get on it we can speak face-to-face and get everything straightened out.” The Fallen let the rifle drop, held loose in one hand. Then he slung it back over his shoulder and drew his revolver. _No sense going in without a backup plan_.

          The elevator door slid closed and he began his descent. Slowly, light began to build up from below, until he was met by an incredible sight. An oasis of water and light was drifting up towards him. Waterfalls and trees all arranged in geometric harmony, while white-clad figures stopped to watch this dirty, tattered stranger gawking at them. “Welcome, to the Institute,” the voice said warmly, “we have much to discuss.” The Fallen craned his neck to keep looking at the green of the trees, but the elevator sank below even this hidden sanctuary, to a much more brightly lit hallway, “I can only imagine what you’ve heard, what you must think of us. It’s my hope that we can convince you that those above ground might have…the wrong impression.” A gentle halt and the smooth opening of the door was his only instruction. The Fallen stepped forward, and strode heavily towards the next room.

          A large glass window dominated much of this room, and behind it…a young boy with coppery hair and storm-cloud eyes. He caught sight of the Fallen immediately and froze in place, watching intently from the corner of his eye,

          “Who are you?” A confident tone, _on the surface, perhaps._ The Fallen didn’t answer, only regarded the lad from beneath a furrowed brow, “Are you gonna answer me or not?” Grey eyes narrowed,

          “Shaun?” The revolver, half-forgotten at his side, was returned to its holster, “Shaun, is…is that you?” The two of them, both equally wary, scowled at one another,

          “I don’t know you, or how you know me, but-,”

          “It’s…I’m your dad, Shaun! These people, they stole you away when you were on’y a babe. Took you outta your momma’s arms…!”

          “I want you to leave! Father!” The boy cried out, looking anywhere but at him, “Father, help me!” The two them snapped their heads around as another door slid open. A tall, aged man in a long white coat joined them in the room, his face solemn.

          “S9-23, recall code Cirrus.” Before the Fallen’s eyes, the young boy slumped over, like a marionette with half its strings cut. The stranger looked crestfallen,

          “Fascinating, but ultimately disappointing. The child’s responses were not at all what I’d anticipated.” A split second passed of the Fallen gaping like a fish, until his brain caught up,

          “What the hell is this? What’d you do to him?!” The old man held up an admonishing finger,

          “Not ‘he’, ‘it’. What you see before you is merely a synth, a prototype in fact, an exploration of a more advanced personality matrix. But that can wait, you came here for another reason altogether.” A step forward and an accusing glare came first,

          “Damn right, and I think you know what it is.”

          “Your son,” the man answered gravely, “he is lucky to have so devoted a father.” This was it, he’d made it, and he was _talking_ to the one responsible. Rage bubbled hot and dark beneath his heart, like a cauldron coming to boil,

          “You _stole_ him from me! You ripped him outta his momma’s arms after your thug put a bullet in her head!” He didn’t remember when he’d started shouting, “And I want him back!” Breath came deep and fast, but the other man barely seemed fazed by his tirade.

          “I have only known you for a few minutes and already I cannot bear to see you in pain. I can take you to your son, but I can’t turn back the clock.” Another step forward, his hand jumping to his revolver,

          “Answer me straight or I swear I will vent your head, old m-!”

          “It’s me!” The man seemed surprised at himself for raising his voice, “I am Shaun.” Fate might’ve replaced the Fallen with a perfect stone statue, until at last a single word struggled free,

          “ _Bullshit!”_

          “In your place I’d be inclined to agree,” Father smiled weakly, “But it is the truth. You think time has any meaning to those in cryo-sleep? I was taken sixty years ago, and raised here, raised eventually to become the Director of the Institute…” But the Fallen was shaking his head, his lips pressed together,

          “No, no, no, I don’t beli-…I _can’t_ …not after all this.” Father held out his hands in a gesture of pleading,

          “I cannot fathom what you must be feeling right now, but if you would just allow us to-!”

          “No! You’re not him! Not after…after I bled, an’ I searched an’ I killed, scrounged an’ _suffered,_ it ain’t _fair!_ ” His fist impacted the glass wall, which shivered noticeably, “Now I don’t care if this is some stupid fuckin’ Institute trick, ‘cause _I ain’t laughin’,_ I want my boy back!” Father spread his hands helplessly,

          “I suppose we could do a blood test, run DNA comparisons, even you cannot deny facts. All I ask for now is that you try to stay calm, I would rather not have to summon Coursers against my own father.” _Coursers_. Memories rushed him, recollections of bright blue lasers, the roar of the rifle, _Mack’s cries of pain._ The sight of that black-clad monster tossing him easily down the stairwell… “Are you all right, father?” The old man was knelt before him, “You fell back against the wall, I’ve sent for a doctor to examine you. Eyes of darkest grey stared with honest concern into his own. _Nora’s nose, her jaw, even the shape of her lips, it’s all there_. His hand rose to cover his face, for he could hold back the tears no longer. Another touched his shaking shoulder, “In time, you’ll come to understand how important our work here is, how this is the best outcome for all of us.” Red-rimmed eyes glared at his son, and the Fallen spat his farewell,

          “ _God damn you all._ ” He pressed a blue button on his Pip-Boy, and vanished in a burst of cyan light.

 

\--

 

The spray of the sea did little to soothe MacCready’s scorched nerves. Even the chill of night couldn’t dispel the burning restlessness that kept him patrolling the Castle’s ramparts so long after the sun’s setting. At least his neck was comfortable. He tossed his empty pack of cigarettes over the drop, patting his pockets in vain hope of another. Every so often, the ground would shake and a fireball would bloom from between the buildings as another car went up. He’d almost gotten used to it, almost like rain on a tin roof. The next one, however, was much closer, and only a blind man could miss the bright blue flash. Overtaxed, the Interceptor toppled with a crash of metal, and a smaller figure toppled with it. The stairs never even entered MacCready’s mind as he plunged to the grass below. He saw the Fallen try to stand, before the sound of retching turned his stomach.

          “Sam!” His feet thudded upon the brown grass though not loud enough to drown out the deep, choking sobs coming from up ahead.

          The Fallen slumped against a crumpled girder as MacCready crashed to the ground beside him, “Sam, oh thank God!” More than that he never had the chance to utter, for the Fallen threw himself into MacCready’s arms,

          “He’s gone, Mack, he’s gone,” and all of MacCready’s worst fears were confirmed, “They took my boy, my baby boy!”

          “Sam… _Sam_ , I-.” _What could I say? What could anyone say right now?_

          “Gone, gone, he’s gone…” MacCready held his face as they both wept, as Sam’s eyes rolled back. Misery turned to fear, turned to panic,

          “Sam? No no no no, _Sam?!”_ A few of the Minutemen were gathering now, _but they’re no use right now! I need someone who knows…_ MacCready cradled Sam in his arms as he yelled frantically, “Curie! _CURIE!!_ ”


End file.
